


Toast Could Be His Crumpet

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Toast of London (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Ficlet, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, being there for one another, nearly kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24341584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Sometimes, Toast feels as though he doesn't have anyone. Life is awful and every week seems to be worse than the last, but the one person who is always there to listen to him is his housemate, Ed. Not only that, but Ed makes him a delicious breakfast. And so, something crazy occurs to Toast - could this ever be more than friendship and food?
Relationships: Steven Toast/Ed Howzer-Black
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Toast Could Be His Crumpet

There was something so inexplicably calming about putting the kettle on, thought Toast, as he flicked the switch forward - even more so than pouring himself a large whisky, though it surely wouldn't be long until that was happening. It was breakfast-time and, by lunch, he would probably be smashed off his face. God, he was depressed. Nothing ever seemed to go his way; if he wasn't ruining the latest dreadful role his agent Jane Plough had landed him, he was wrecking his life in other ways - and he seemed to be trying to beat his record for how short his romantic relationships would last every single time he tried.

Yes, he could see himself becoming thoroughly plastered by this afternoon, at the Colonial Club. But, for now, _tea_ \- a nice, relaxing cup of tea with his _best friend_. Actually - there was no place he felt more comfortable than Ed's homely, though slightly grubby, kitchen. It was as if he could let go of the breath he had been holding in for such a long time, and finally be himself - which, despite being such a _brilliant_ actor, was a task he found surprisingly difficult to do. However, in Ed's company, he never struggled to be his honest self. "It's been a godawful week. The very fucking worst," he grumbled, knowing Howzer-Black would always be there to listen.

"Worse than last week?" came a surprised reply from behind the newspaper.

"As if you could believe it - _yes_. I'm such a bloody mess, Ed. I've ballsed it up with another fabulous girl. I've lost out on another job to Ray fucking Purchase. And it's only Wednesday."

"I see. Well, I'll put some breakfast on, old chap," Ed smiled, pulling out his chair from the table, approaching the counter top, "And we'll see if that might make you feel better."

"You're always good to me," Toast murmured, "Sometimes, I feel like I don't have anyone." But, quickly, Steven recalled how Ed had often said - whenever things hadn't quite worked out for them - that it appeared to be just the two of them against the whole damned world. And then Steven remembered how everything would _always_ seem alright the moment he could return home and discuss his worries with Ed. "Except you," he amended his words.

Ed took a break from what he was doing, slicing bread rolls, to turn to Toast. "You _always_ have me, Toast," he whispered. Now then - when had Ed's hands dropped the knife and found themselves, instead, tousling Toast's dark brown and silver-striped locks, bringing their faces ever-closer together? And when had Toast managed to slip his hands under Howzer-Black's burgundy-coloured dressing gown, reaching through to the soft, bare skin beneath? Steven could have sworn that, thirty seconds ago, he was only trying to make a simple cup of tea - and, now, he and Ed were locked in passionate embrace.

"Is-- Is this going to lead to some sort of sex?" Toast bellowed in his inimitable way, slightly stammering. "Because I have my shit play at seven, and many other things to do today."

"I don't see why we wouldn't be able to fit something in," Ed agreed, glancing at his watch.

"Would it bother you... if I kept my _sports vest_ on?"

"--Oh, I do _love_ a sports vest," Ed interrupted him with a growl, plucking the smoker's pipe out of Toast's mouth, and allowing their lips to gently graze, but nothing more. As Ed slowly pulled away, he had a suggestion, "Can we do this after breakfast? I'm absolutely famished. I'm making bacon sandwiches, you know." The pan was at risk of catching fire by now, but no blaze could have been bigger than the ones roaring away inside of them.

"With brown sauce?" Toast looked as though he was about to explode - and, when Ed nodded, made an unintelligible, lascivious mumble.

"One finds it terribly hard to focus on the job on an empty stomach," Ed hummed, thrusting the rashers of pink, streaky meat into their buns.

"That's the thing: a roof over my head, someone who's a good listener, cares about my problems, makes me bacon sandwiches - and the promise of a bit of how's your father later on. I think I've realised what's wrong with these glamorous beauties," Steven went on, as he sat down to dine.

"Hmmm?" Ed passed him a plate.

"--They're not you, Ed. How can they live up to this standard?"

"Aww, Toast," Ed bashfully smiled, sinking his teeth into the floury bap - but the rest of what he said afterwards was completely lost within a series of feral chomps, him rabidly licking HP sauce from the corner of his mouth and slurping his tea.

" _What_?"

"I said," he paused, mid-chew, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever told me, Toast."

In which case, Toast thought that he might just save telling Ed how much he was clearly in love with him until _after_ their lunch, at least.


End file.
